


A Madness Shared By Two

by MonikaFileFan



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Stakeout, UST, Werewolf Fights, season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 07:02:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21095366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonikaFileFan/pseuds/MonikaFileFan
Summary: When Mulder talks Scully into a supernatural stakeout, the thin line of their “platonic” status quo becomes maddeningly blurred.





	A Madness Shared By Two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OnlyTheInevitable](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyTheInevitable/gifts).

> Spooky word: Bitten 
> 
> Nicole, I know how much you love sexual tension and the season 7 MSR, so naturally this is dripping with it. Enjoy!😘
> 
> Episode references: Shapes, PMP, Folie a deux, Millennium, Jersey Devil.

——

FBI J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING 

WASHINGTON, D.C

X FILES OFFICE 

5:55 PM

Mulder used to think about it all of time before it happened. What it would be like to kiss her: to hold her in his arms as their lips met for the first time, to feel the fire of their chemistry slowly burning between them. 

That was before the clock struck midnight and rang in the new Millennium. He now lived blissfully in the after. It was mid-January and he had the landmark experience to obsess about, rather than his mere imagination. 

He’d re-played that moment on New Year’s Eve over and over again on a loop. A soft, tender kiss; her warm lips pressed gently against his with the perfect amount of pressure, just enough to keep him from slumping forward like love-struck man falling deeper in love than he was ten seconds before. The look of awe and satisfaction in her eyes that he’d finally done it was enough to be assured it wasn’t all just another dream. 

Now, much like nights spent alone in his apartment, his mind easily conjured up what could have happened later that night if he’d just thrown caution to the wind and showed her exactly how much he craved her intimacy. Her slender hands might’ve slid up his chest and cradled his face. He knew instinctively that his good arm would have slipped around the dip of her tiny waist to palm his spot at her lower back. He could almost feel her fingers combing through his hair, scratching gently along his scalp in the wonderful way she always did when he was sick or injured. 

Mulder envisioned her melting into him as their kiss deepened and their bodies entwined like rope. A physical way to tether themselves to one another as his mouth traveled sensually down the porcelain column of her thro—.

A shrill ring coming from his pocket yanked him back to reality. 

He cursed and scrambled to see who’d interrupted the rare luxury of an unexplored fantasy. The call marked BLOCKED lit up on his screen and he knew who it was. Only three people more paranoid than him would ever call from a blocked number. “Evening, Boys.”

_ “Just me this time,” _ Langly corrected, _ “and we’ve got the usual three minute limit.” _

“Ah, so business then. Hit me.”

_ “One word: werewolves.” _

“Excuse me?”

_ “We got an anonymous tip about suspicious supernatural activity the other night. The guy was pretty freaked. He offered up some suspicious info he’d gotten from a bartender at Club Vortex. He’s been researching the moon’s effects on humans and tapped into a shit-ton of werewolf data. Real life Lycanthropes, dude.” _

“I’m gonna need a little more than that to go on here,” Mulder huffed, knowing Scully wouldn’t be gung ho about spending another weekend pounding the pavement in search of something like _ Children of the Moon _. Especially after nearly being eaten by zombies; and he’d already promised himself he wouldn’t ditch her again. New year, new leaf. “You should know it isn’t me you need to convince. It’s my other half.”

_ “We know. Look, the guys and I visited the club a couple times before. Only after I convinced Frohike to leave the lair and we talked Byers into being our DD, that is. Anyway, the place is huge. Lots of dark places for people to hide certain activities, of course.” _

“I’m sure,” he spurred on. The silence drifting through the phone clued him in that Langly was waiting for more interest on his part. “Spell it out for me here.”

_ “Basically, the source said they want the right person to see this place. And in case this is legit; they want it to be someone high up who will listen. Someone who believes.” _

“Someone like me.”

_ “Bingo! And Mulder, this could be epic. We gathered as much intel for you and Agent Scully as we could about the secret society of a Lycanthrope supernatural world.” _

“And when are we going to be receiving this _ supernatural intel _?”

_ “Right now,” _ Langly said just as a crackling noise rustled through the phone. _ “I’m sliding an envelope under your apartment door. Call us after the stakeout,” _he reminded and the line went dead in his ear. 

***

6:30 PM

“Mulder, are you finished?” Scully haphazardly tossed the stack of exaggerated supernatural images atop the solved casefile of the Millennium group with resigned amusement. “Because I think I’ve heard more than enough. I come back from the lab, only to find a note in your absence, begging me not to leave yet, and for this? I was hoping for you to hand me a hot meal and not an envelope full of half-naked hairy men.”

“And women.”

“Mulder!”

“Oh, come on, Scully,” he huffed with equal parts affection and exasperation. Her snug yellow dress shirt hugged her curves in all the right places and distracted him every time he glanced at her. The way her red gold hair mingled with the brightness of her top reminded him of a warm, summer sunset in the dead of winter. Who needs four seasons when you’ve got a Scully? “After all these years together, you had to see this coming.”

“I already have. I know you haven’t forgotten about that supposed shapeshifting case from our first year as partners.”

Mulder scoffed and propped an ass cheek on the edge of the desk. “Of course not and there was nothing _ supposed _ about it. We both know what that man changed into at night, Scully, and it wasn’t his pajamas.”

Scully tsked and bit back a threatening smile. She gave him a quick once over—for the twentieth time today—and considered how amazing he looked donning a fitted black shirt and black tie. Then she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to see those same clothes sprawled carelessly across her bedroom floor... 

_ Don’t torture yourself, Dana. _

Schooling her face as to not show just how much his sexy pout and loosened tie was affecting her, she reined in her growing desire to reach up and kiss that smart-assed mouth of his. His plump and soft and warm and...

“Look, I’ll admit, this all sounds entertaining. But, I really don’t want to go running off to Bumfuck in search of an underground club that may or may not fulfill Langly’s cryptid fantasy.”

He grinned wide-eyed and tapped the file with his pencil. “We’re not heading to _ Bumfuck _ this time, Scully, but _ please _ feel free to mention that again anytime in the future.”

“In which part are you referring: _ bum _ or _ fuck _?” She couldn’t help but tease him with a cock of her head a bitten lip. It took all Scully had not to bust out laughing at her professional, innuendo slinging partner’s slacked-jaw expression and pinkening cheeks. 

“Touche,” he winked and flung the freshly sharpened number two end over end into the ceiling. Mulder quickly turned to grab his jacket off the rack, hoping to salve off an unforeseen burgeoning erection, and asked, “You comin’, partner? I promise to feed you.”

“As if I’d let you roam the streets under a full moon without me,” she huffed, already rising from behind the desk. She knew better than that. Mulder could manage to get into trouble at a church picnic. “What kind of partner do you take me for?”

“Oh, Scully, I don’t think I could ever adequately describe how I take you.”

“Good answer,” she praised, hiding the flush of her Irish skin from his honestly as she locked the basement door behind them. 

***

CLUB VORTEX

CORNER OF NE BENNING RD 

WASHINGTON, D.C.

7:32 PM

Within the outskirts of D.C., the sky turned a fiery orange and melted to pale pink as it drifted towards twilight. An ethereal full moon glowed within the winter’s sky as Mulder rolled his FBI issued Taurus to a stop down the street from the nightclub. Its neon rainbow lights were strobing brightly and reflecting off of the skeptical baby blues of his partner. 

“So you don’t think we should let Skinner in on this little stakeout plan of yours?” 

“What the Skinman doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Scully was quiet and made no move to unbuckle, puffing a fog of warm air against the window and muting the neon lights behind it.

“Werewolves… really?”

“Lycanthropes, technically, or _ Children of the Moon _,” he corrected as he pocketed the car keys and opened the driver side door. “And Langly sure seems to think so, or he wouldn’t have told me.”

“That’s supposed to be reassuring?” She gave him The Brow and pinned him with a look suggesting he surely had more than just that to go on. “Langly saw Elvis in a potato chip once and you’re taking him seriously about what some source said a woman in a club whispered in his ear?” 

“That was _ me _ , Scully,” he reminded her, feigning shock at her confusing his epic discovery with _ anyone _ else. “That one hurt.”

Scully shook her head, holding back another smile as she exited the car with a shiver and started down the crowded sidewalk without him. 

She couldn’t believe she was doing this tonight. Not when she had a nice evening planned consisting of soaking in her bathtub and finally indulging in the part of her erotic romance novel that mimicked the sexy cover photo—her entire reasoning for splurging on the explicit guilty pleasure in the first place. Yet, she willingly tossed that appealing plan to the wayside without thought. All for her partner, whom she just happened to be crazy in love with, of course. 

_ Crazy _ being the operative word. 

Mulder jogged up beside her as she rounded the corner, passing by the line of half frozen party-goers scantily dressed in leather and lace. “Excited, are we?”

“Far from it.”

“Come on, Scully, it could be fun. I mean, there’s a dance floor,” he pointed out with his lips hovering above the crown of her head. He pulled her closer as a glacial gust washed over them, slipping a hand under her jacket’s edge and claiming his spot on her lower back, fingers strumming the violin curve of her waist rather unplatonic-like. 

The truth was, once Mulder found out where this little investigative stakeout was happening, he couldn’t shake the obsessive idea of dancing with Scully again from his brain. Over a year and a half was a long damn time to wait in order to take advantage of his stiff upper lip Vineyard upbringing. 

As they approached the entrance and flashed their badges, the music roared and the urge to spin the woman he loved around the dance floor did, too. At least those horrifyingly embarrassing dance lessons his P.E. teacher forced upon his entire senior class ensured Mulder had some decent moves under his belt. 

Scully closed her eyes, easily losing herself to her partner’s simple touch as the bass from the music thrummed through his palm, heating her skin in that familiar Mulder way. 

“Of course I could request “Walking in Memphis”, if that happens to be the gateway song,” he chuckled. 

She eyed him. “I’ll just be happy if we both make it home unscathed this time. I’m not looking forward to spending another Friday night in an ER.”

He held a hand over his heart and said, “Zombie-free, I promise. Minimal chance we get bitten tonight.” He winked and chuckled to himself knowing all too well that with their job promises made regarding lack of bodily harm did not hold much weight. Especially regarding him as of late. 

The shake of her coppery, skeptical head and dubious expression told him she would only believe it _ if _ she saw it. “See? I’m rather easy to please nowadays, Mulder.” 

He swallowed hard as very unpartnerly thoughts rolled through his head. “So just one normal, monster-free night and you’re content, huh?” 

“Oh, I don’t know.” Scully bit her lip and looked up at him through her lashes. She turned as they were ushered into the crowd of the club, adjusting the cuff of his entirely too sexy black dress shirt, and poked at his chest playfully. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Monster Boy. I wouldn’t be sure of that _ at all. _” 

***

8:53 PM

Scully skimmed a nail around the rim of the Old Fashioned glass, flicking the lime split on the edge of her gin and tonic. The greasy bar food was settling in nicely now as she took another healthy swig. She rarely drank, but when she did, it was usually her alone in her apartment, swirling a glass of Cabernet as she pined away for a man who was likely doing the same thing with a bottle of Shiner Bock at a hole-in-the-wall D.C. bar. 

But she wasn’t alone, and the man she’d been pining over for years was sitting so close she could smell his sandalwood body wash. So, she indulged. “This is kind of nice.”

“What?” Mulder leaned in, hovering his ear in front of her face. She could see his pulse humming steadily within his throat. 

_ Oh shit, _ the warmth of the gin buzzed in her veins. She shouldn’t have drank. It does nothing but leave her fuzzy and loose-lipped. And it was her idea to _ blend _ to begin with. 

She licked her lips and breathed through the music against the shell of his ear, “I said this is nice, Mulder. Sitting here… with you, like a normal couple in—couple of hard-working adults,” she caught herself and bit her tongue as punishment for her near slip of wishful thinking. “Even if we are here to put the Gunmen’s theory to rest.”

He grinned and nodded, her moist lips coated with alcohol brushed his ear, sending a rush of heat directly to Mulder’s gut. He turned towards her, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up before tugging at his collar. “Getting warm in here. Should’ve changed into something less confining, I guess.” 

“No. No, you shouldn’t have.” 

Mulder leaned back and smiled around the mouth of his beer. His eyes sparkled with unguarded glee.

“So, what is it we’re looking for exactly?”

“Well, Scully, since we’re going off of information we have investigated in the past—the case in Montana six years ago, and judging by the rather subjective Lycanthrope lore, it could be anything supernatural in nature. Unusual, per say.” 

Scully hid a smirk behind the rim of her glass and savored the last warming sip. “Mulder, I’m certain my definition of _ unusual _ still greatly differs from yours.”

The grin he gave her in return burned its way through her belly faster than the gin did. 

A different bartender appeared in front of them, loosening the tightly wound tether drawing them together as she gathered Mulder’s empty beer bottle. 

“Evening! I’m Lux, taking over for the big guy. Another Shiner Bock?”

“I’m all set, thanks,” Mulder shook his head, wanting to focus on their unofficial surveillance without alcohol clouding his mind. Scully’s close proximity was doing a good job of that itself. 

“Sure thing. How about you, red,” she pointed a sharp nail at Scully and Mulder could almost feel her eyes roll. 

Lux had incredibly long, thick and shiny hair the color of bronze that wrapped around her petite curves like a second skin. Her eyes were oddly the exact same shade of golden brown and seemed to unnaturally swirl like a whirlpool, keeping her gaze locked onto his. Next to him, he felt Scully’s stare burning a hole through the side of his face. 

“I’m set, too, thank you.” Scully’s voice was soft, barely cutting through the loud voice of Madonna singing about music bringing people together. 

Mulder broke the trance-like connection and turned to face Scully. Suddenly feeling open and exposed, as if the familiar romantic line he’d drawn between them years ago simply vanished. This was an opening. 

He held out a hand to her, palm up, fingers beckoning with a lopsided smile. An invitation for her to step over the invisible barrier and embrace _ more _, if she were ready. 

A glimmer of light reflected off the deep ocean of blue in her eyes as they flickered between his, turning her gaze lustrous and otherworldly. Much like their targets in which they were clearly unfocused in searching for. 

“Dance with me, Scully,” Mulder pled, his eyes whirling like the strobing greens and golds flickering on the dance floor that shone with the same electric fire as the twinkling lights. Something akin to unbridled desire stirred in her belly. “This isn’t a Cher concert and we may not be surrounded by a crowd of scientifically modified townsfolk, but maybe…” 

“Mulder.” Scully clicked her tongue, feeling uncharacteristically flattered as her cheeks burned and her heart skipped a beat. “Shouldn’t we…” she trailed off as an image of her sliding her arms around his neck and kissing him senseless played out for an innumerable amount of time since that night she’d swayed within his arms in a backwoods Indiana town.

_ God _, just the thought… 

She mindlessly rubbed her hand up and down his forearm, the tips of her fingers cascading through his soft body hair, her eyes flicking from his gaze down to his pouty bottom lip. “Scul—”

** _BOOM!_ **

Startled, they both jumped and twisted around on their stools to witness several broad-shouldered men shoving and sneering at one another. A small group of men and women with identical crescent moon shaped tattoos etched into the curves of their necks circled around the scuffle.

Lux, a tiny waif of a woman dressed in leather pants and a skin tight tank, appeared out of thin air and stepped up to the man still jerking his opponent around like a rag doll. With a defiant glare, she gripped his massive plaid covered bicep and easily yanked down the arm that was poised in an arc, fist clenched and ready to pound into the other man’s face. 

Mulder and Scully, momentarily stunned, stood next to where their jackets hung along their chairs, wide-eyed and waiting as the tension thickened heavily around them. The fuming man with long wavy hair, still hovering menacingly over the slightly smaller one as he was sprawled out and struggling backwards over a table. The burly, wavy haired man flicked his eyes down to Lux, and bared his teeth in a snarl. 

Time slowed, like hot breath floating through the icy air of winter. Even the music seemed to fizzle down to an ominous hum. 

“It’s them,” Mulder murmured, and Scully stiffened beside him. “It’s a challenge of dominance. If he looks away, she’ll control what happens next.”

As if reading Scully’s mind, Mulder reached out to hold her back, but her intention was made clear as she beelined her way toward a wall of muscle before them. 

What Mulder now knew to be members of a werewolf pack. 

There they were right in front of them, and his partner was trying to bite off more than she could chew. Quite literally, in fact. 

“Scully!” He lunged forward to tell her exactly that when a sudden cacophony of voices, shattering glass, and rustling bodies burst to life. 

“I’m the Beta, Lux,” Mulder heard the burly man growl, sending a string of spittle through the air, “and you’ll always be a bitc—”

A deafening CRACK of Lux’s knuckles hitting bone echoed through the club, splattering a pinprick pattern of blood on the wall next to them… and all hell broke loose. 

Bodies swarmed like angry bees and Scully heard cursing and clamorous thuds of glasses being smashed over flesh. The metallic tang of copious bloodshed assailed her senses and she hoped Mulder’s blood wasn’t any part of it.

“Stop! Federal Agent,” she yelled over the din, swinging her arm around to unholster her gun. “Put the bottle dow—” Her warning was cut off as breath left her chest after being shoved hard from behind, soaring face first into the melee. 

“Scully!” Mulder shoved his way through the dense crowd after he lost sight of his petite partner in the sea of grappling men. 

“Fuck, watch it man!” Someone spat as he hip-checked them to get close enough to find Scully. 

Any remaining curiosity about seeing Lycanthropes in human form evaporated and was instantly replaced with concern for Scully’s safety. Mulder knew she could hold her own. Hell, she could kick his ass if she really wanted to; but that never stopped him from worrying. 

A female pack member with a Mohawk had a man three times her size in a chokehold to his left, while two teenage boys with blazing orange eyes were circling one another like prey to his right. Directly in front of him, club security was wrestling a guy inked with the crescent mark and was promptly tossed aside as if he weighed nothing, slamming him into the back of Scully. She was thrust directly into the throng of flying fists and broken bottles. 

Mulder saw red. 

Rage washed over him like a scarlet wave that sent his fingers curling into a white knuckled ball. He kicked the werewolf’s knee, buckling it as Mulder rammed his fist into his nose over and over again in rapid succession, feeling bone crunch beneath his fingers. 

Mulder felt something hard smack into his lower back. He stumbled and searched for the culprit with the cheap shot, but only saw the werewolf he’d punched writhing on the floor instead. The man howled and slapped a hand over his face as blood bubbled up between his fingers. Mulder gagged and almost lost his dinner. 

Sick of the bullshit, Mulder spun around without hesitation, pulled out his gun, and hollered, “SCULLAAYYYY!” 

“Mulder!” came her voice from his side. “I’m here. I’m okay,” she told him with both her voice and her eyes. Even through the dizzying chaos, she remained his touchstone and quelled his anger with her simple presence. 

She touched his wrist and he nodded, re-holstering his weapon.

Just as Scully opened her mouth to say they needed to leave, another man with flared nostrils, wearing a flannel shirt and a matching crescent shaped tattoo stood up on top of a table and blew an ear-piercing whistle. 

Every single person fighting froze. 

An eerie calm settled throughout the club as the man, the Alpha, glared down at his pack. Mulder knew what he was the moment he saw him. He could feel the power radiating off him. As a strobe light shined into the Alpha’s eyes, Mulder saw the same exotic copper colored irises as Lux’s swirl like clouds in a violent storm.

“Mulder…”

The Alpha growled, leaping gracefully off the high top and jerked his head towards the back exit. In a blink of an eye, the pack was gone. 

As the back doors burst open and the frigid air blew in from the alleyway, Scully swore she could hear howling echo through the streets. 

“What the hell?” It wasn’t a question she truly wanted Mulder’s answer to, so she shook her head, shoved her way to grab their coats, and moved to the front doors before the locals arrived. She didn’t want to deal with their questioning as to why two federal agents just pulled their weapons on civilians and assisted in a barroom brawl.

Mulder dutifully followed Scully out into the cold while nursing his throbbing hand. “Holy shit, Scully! That was… wow. But I doubt we’ll ever see them again.”

“And good riddance,” she said, brushing away remnants of someone’s splattered bar food from his shirt. Struck by the boyish way his thick hair was mussed and sticking up in the back, her heart softened. 

Just barely. 

“_ Jesus _, we were in a bar fight, Mulder.” Exasperated that this was the reality of her Friday night, yet unwilling to admit she was simultaneously proud of their performance in the forced participation, she just sighed and tossed him a pointed look. “Next time, the Gunmen find their own werewolves.”

“Agreed. And hey, you’re hurt.” He touched her forehead tenderly and cringed. “Oh, there’s a knot there already. You’ll need ice,” he hissed. “Shit, I hate seeing you bruised, Scully.”

She could only smirk at him and shrug, stilling his probing fingers with a tap to his wrist. “You should see the other guy.”

***

DANA SCULLY’S APARTMENT

GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON D.C.

11:44 PM

Scully unlocked her door and ushered Mulder to the couch. “Here, have a seat and I’ll grab some ice for the both of us. And don’t flex your fingers until I can take a look.”

“I know the drill, Doc.” Mulder flopped himself on the couch and flinched. “Ah, sonofabitch! 

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, I just got sucker-punched in the back—hurts all of a sudden,” he explained as she walked back into the living room with two wrapped bags of ice cubes. 

Scully gently prodded his knuckles and maneuvered each digit to check for any fractures. “There’s no such thing as a fair bar fight. Or so I’ve been told.” 

Mulder grinned. “Fair or not, you’d hold your own, Scully. It’s me you need to worry about, apparently.”

She stopped her inspection and placed the ice pack over his hand. “I always worry about you,” she teased, but her words were serious ones. 

She did worry. She worried about him and how the perilous pursuit of the truth would affect them both in the end. Would there be an end? She worried whether or not they’d ever find the answers to questions that held the intimate relationship between them at arm's length. She worried they’d never get there soon enough. And she worried that when they did, she’d lose herself in him, too. 

“You need to ice that soon or Skinner’s going assume I dropped the ball as your partner and throttle me on Monday,” he pouted. “And I’ve grown quite attached to my balls, Scully.”

“I can only imagine. I’ll worry about me later. As for you,” she stood and gestured for him to do the same, “Take off your shirt.”

“Coming onto me even after you’ve sobered up, huh?” he quipped, undoing each button torturously slow under the lights amber glow. She just stood there, mute, feeling his eyes studying her reaction to him baring his chest this way. It was all highly erotic. Maybe she wouldn’t need that romance novel after all. “I’m all yours, Scully.”

She blushed and tucked that thought away for later. “After seven years, I suppose I am stuck with you.”

“Ouch.”

“Speaking of _ ouch _, lets see it.” She arched a brow as she pointed to his back, daring him to ask her what “it” she was referring to.

Mulder shrugged out of his shirt, exposing a large, red wound along the muscular planes of his latissimus. “_ Oh! _” She was surprised it was still actively bleeding after nearly two hours covered in cotton.

“That bad, huh?”

“No, no, it’s just certainly not from a fist and it’s still bleeding.” She palmed the center of his back, sliding her hand over his warm curves as she leaned in closer. 

“Werewolf bites don’t heal,” he informed her, hearing her huff behind him in disbelief and feeling the puff of moist air tickle his spine. 

Her fingers danced across his rib cage and he could feel the goosebumps rise on the back of his neck. If she kept that up, Mulder knew something else would soon rise to the occasion as well. And this time, he wouldn’t be able to hide it behind loose fitting slacks and a desk. 

“We don’t know that it’s a bite yet and why didn’t you tell me you were hurt sooner? I could have…” Scully trailed off as the broad of his shoulders shifted and rippled every corded muscle along his back. He had the body of an athlete; a physique well-maintained by cyclical swimming and running: slender, sinewy, well-defined. “...have treated it at the club.”

“My adrenaline did a nice job of hiding it. And with most supernatural creatures, biting is the natural way werewolves show aggression,” he explained with a deepened timber. 

She was too caught up in the feel of his voice rumbling beneath her touch to raise a counter-argument. She swallowed and allowed her fingers to dance along his smooth, cinnamon skin that looked good enough to sink _ her _ teeth into. 

“Scully?”

“As do most species in general,” she urged. 

His body was formed perfectly for her hands. She’d known this since the first time she’d touched him, solid structure underneath the layers of soft flesh and slender muscle. The skin of his flanks was smooth, decorated with a scattering of moles and scars that told the tale of Fox Mulder’s past like a map of the stars. 

She rose up on tip-toe and stared at an all too familiar one. A puckered through and through scar that branded a piece of her to him for life. Much like he’d seared his mark upon her heart years ago. 

“Scully...”

“Yeah?” 

Looking over his shoulder, his eyes honed in on her fingers that were tracing the permanent mark of five years prior. “Not that I’m not selfishly enjoying the hell out of this right now, Doc, but I think blood is dripping down my ass cheek. Wouldn’t want to stain your carpet.”

Blinking, she cleared her throat and rocked back on her heels. “Sorry, I-I’ll grab my bag and clean this. Uh, before I can determine what may have caused it.”

Beaming at her flustered and flushing face, he watched her kick her shoes off to the side of the entryway and peel off her dress socks. She wiggled her little toes with a relieved sigh. They were painted a cute, glossy lavender. Funny, he’d always pegged her as a clear-coat kind of woman. 

As she turned to retrieve her medical bag, Mulder noticed a wet trail of blood smeared along her ankle and heel. “Hey, that’s fresh blood there on your foot, Scully. Are you bleeding, too?” 

She grabbed the bag from the closet and glanced down as she sat on the couch. “I don’t think so. I’m just sore.” Hiking up her pant leg, she grimaced as a cherry shaped cut oozed crimson against her white skin. 

Mulder gasped. “You were bitten? Scully, why didn’t you say something?” 

She scoffed and covered her leg, waving him off. “It’s just a laceration, Mulder, and I barely feel it. Likely, from a piece of glass or… or a rough edge that caught me during the scuffle.” She hardly would have noticed either way with how keyed up she was. If she were honest, it felt far too good smashing her elbow in that tattooed asshole’s eye after he’d shoved her face in a wall to detect anything else. 

Feeding into Mulder’s theory that they had both somehow been bitten by a supernatural creature was not something she’d wanted to do tonight. The idea was just preposterous.

“It may have been crazy in there for a minute, but I’m positive a stranger’s mouth never made its way to my leg—let alone bitten down through my slacks hard enough to puncture the skin. I think I’d notice.”

Her frustration at the mere thought of him being right silently thrilled Mulder. “Well, if it were my mouth, you wouldn’t miss a thing.”

“Mulder…” Scully closed her eyes and composed herself. Of course he’d focus on that part. “I’m fine,” she told him as he stepped forward, reaching down and capturing her leg within his warm hands. “You don’t need to—”

“No! Let me help you,” he scolded and slowly exposed her injury. “I want to help.” He soothed a strip of porcelain above the angry looking wound on her leg and nearly begged, “I want to take care of you, Scully. If you’d let me, I’d take _ such _ good care of you.”

The weight of the underlying meaning in his words was not lost to her. They wrapped around her like a heavy blanket, leaving her warm and pliant. “I-I know you would, Mulder.” 

Their timing just wasn’t right for that, they knew neither were fully ready to risk it all and freefall off that ledge. Not yet. They both knew it and that made it even harder for her heart to accept. 

Soon, though. So soon... 

She’d always been good at this part; telling herself what she needed to hear in order to make it back up and over the next hill life piled up in their path. Softening the blow of an internal need to resist, to self block, until there was nothing left to lose and the leap was no more than a freefall

He could feel it radiating off of her. 

Mulder understood her internal struggle of tucking away the need to move forward together. There were still emotional mysteries to be solved before they risked everything—before he could be free to do so. There was just one problem. Scully _ was _ his everything. 

“Let me do this, Scully. I owe you one. 

She smirked. “Just one?” 

“Okay, more like one hundred.” 

“At this rate, you’ll owe me for the rest of your life.”

_ That’s the plan, _Mulder hoped. 

Hope was what he held onto at night. 

***

12:10 AM

Scully finished cleaning Mulder’s wound on his back and the bleeding finally tapered off. After a thorough examination, she had to admit there did seem to be puncture-like lesions that clearly caused blood to run, but she saw no evidence that he’d been bitten. Whether the wound was caused by teeth like he suggested or not, she certainly held no concern of him contracting a werewolf virus. 

“...type of madness sets in as the virus invades. There are two kinds of werewolves; those born from Lycanthrope parents and those infected with lycanthropy through a bite, shifting into wolf form with the next full moon..."

Mulder convinced her that only he could access her injury clearly, so she sat back and enjoyed the tactile attention he was so good at giving. She talked him through the debridement steps and listened to him chat away about legends of lycanthropy, just absorbing the tender way his hands skimmed the curves of her leg and how his voice slid across her skin like silk. 

“Like I said, I can’t be sure this isn’t a bite wound, Scully, but it sure has a mouth-like shape to it.”

“Hmm, should I do a comparison?” she asked, holding back a smile as her gaze fell to his mouth. 

“Would I be biting off more than I could chew if I offered?” Mulder couldn’t help wondering. He’d let that thought stew for a while as he redirected his focus down to her petite feet with an appreciative nod toward her purple toes. 

“Funny.” His candor threw her off. Scully loved their easy banter. It was what got her through horrible cases and even worse motel room stays. Lately though, their seemingly innocent flirting didn’t seem so innocent anymore. 

She shook her head and gestured down to where he was rubbing her feet. “Doctor Mulder, I think you’ve done your due diligence.”

“Nah, can’t be too careful. Besides, I like your little feet, Scully.”

“You mean the ones you once thought couldn’t reach the pedals? You’re forgiven, by the way.”

Mulder smiled sheepishly. He was already kneeling at her feet, so he circled his thumbs along the sole of her foot as penance. 

Scully sighed as her body loosened under Mulder’s touch. He’d taken to practically giving her entire lower left leg a deep tissue massage. And she sure as hell wasn't going to stop him, either. Feeling the unlikely prospect niggling at her brain that anyone, especially a damn werewolf had bitten her, she needed to voice it aloud once more. To reassure him of this. And maybe even herself, though she loathe to admit it. 

“Mulder, you realize what happened tonight was just a result of intoxicated, riled up people looking for a reason to blow off some steam, right? They just happened to share the same neck tattoos.”

“Scul-ly, weren’t you listening? Thousands of people throughout thousands of years have depicted the existence of supernatural creatures. Not all of them can be wrong.” 

She felt a moan rise as his hands continued to knead her muscles. She had no scientific response to that and she was caring less and less about it by the second. A surge of pleasure hummed through her limbs as he crept farther up her leg. It felt so good. Too good, so she grabbed his wrist to stop him while she still could. 

Mulder was an especially sensual person, she’d learned. A tactile man, ingrained to crave touch. Scully had simply grown accustomed to his hands seeking that contact from her, and she slowly began to crave it herself. 

Her breath caught as he boldly took her hand in his and their fingers tangled, his mossy eyes never leaving hers. Raising it to his mouth, he planted a warm kiss to the back of it and her insides melted.

“I-it’s just not plausible. None of it.” Yet somehow, when he explained a theory, everything seemed plausible. Seven years spent arguing science with this man and she only seemed to support his outlandish theories in the end. “It’s a folktale,” she said softly. “A myth.”

“Oh, Agent Scully, that takes me back,” he teased, a coy smirk blooming. “Say it again?” 

She scoffed, relaxed and languid, eyes rolling at their light-hearted back and forth. “It _ is _ a folktale. A myth, meaning it’s just a story told around fires of the past.”

“Hm,” he tapped a finger to his stubbled chin, “I seem to recall you saying that exact thing about a certain Jersey Devil.” Mulder joked easily, but for a moment he was completely overcome by the simple thrill of her lingering touch. 

The consistency in which her small hand was always there to hold his never ceased to amaze him. It was as if all of life’s trials and loss they were capable of withstanding in their partnership could be soothed within the palms of her hands.

He’d never noticed before, just how perfectly her delicate fingers laced through his. Those same fingers that sliced through the dead; that squeezed the trigger and sent a bullet through him; that were able to take life as easily as they saved it… they were the same ones that also brought life into the world and touched him with such tender care. 

The power of his partner’s touch could be entirely overwhelming. Addicting. And like an addict, he would always desire it; desire her. 

“Mulder…”

His cell phone ringing from across the room broke their gaze and he rolled his eyes at the Gunman’s shitty timing. “I… sorry I’d better get that.”

Mulder grabbed the phone and jabbed at the TALK button. “Mulder.”

_ “You see anything?” _

“Yeah, and it’s gonna take longer than three minutes to explain it all. I’ll just come over tomor—”

_ “We’re waiting for you, man. Frohike just ordered a pizza with your name on it.” _

Mulder ran a hand through his hair and looked back at Scully, only to see she’d replaced her pant leg and started gathering bloody cotton swabs and bandage wrappers. And just like that, the moment had passed. 

“Fine. I’ll be there soon.” Mulder ended the call and stared longingly at the place where he was about to kiss his partner again. He was determined to taste her lips tonight, dammit. 

“I hope you plan to tell the boys to leave us out of their next supernatural surveillance idea,” Scully said as she handed him his jacket. She was disappointed he was leaving but also grateful if things weren’t to take a giant leap forward tonight. Her self-control was waning. 

“They’ll hear about your werewolf ass-kicking abilities for sure. Gotta keep ‘em in line.”

“Someone has to do it.” She smiled and held the door open for him. “So, I think it’s safe to say I won’t be hearing you howling at the moon on your way to your car.” 

“Guess we’ll find out for certain on the next full moon,” he announced cryptically and waggled his brow. 

“It’s impossible, Mulder.” Even as the words slipped through her lips, she knew entertaining the impossible was exactly what they always did together. 

“Nothing’s impossible. Only improbable,” he replied with a smirk. “And improbable is our Spooky trademark.” 

“_ Ours? _”

He nodded, mindlessly gliding his fingers through the silk of her hair and tucking it behind her ear with care. “My New Year’s resolution: it’s you and me, Scully. As maddening as it is, you’re stuck with me and the truth we share together, remember? Folie a deux...”

How could she forget?

And shockingly, that madness was exactly what she’d grown to love about her life. About him. 

Scully stepped closer to him—or he to her, didn't matter which—licking her lips instinctively with the tip of her tongue. This was just Mulder. Just Mulder and the golden cyclone whirling in his eyes, threatening to scour her skin and expose her heart with one seductive glance.

Mulder stifled a groan as he felt himself drift downward—cobalt and cerulean drawing him in as he wrapped an arm around her lithe hips, succumbing easily to the magnetic pull of her.

Their lips met in the softest of kisses, moving gently and salaciously against each other. Her eyes fluttered shut and she fell into it, tilting her head for more. She couldn’t suppress the contented moan that drifted from her throat as he thumbed her cheek, kissing her thoroughly, reinforcing their fate while making a promise for the future.

“See? Maddening,” he breathed as their lips reluctantly parted. “Either I’m crazy or…” 

“...we both are,” she finished, breathless. Her fingers clutched desperately around the lapels of his jacket and her eyes stayed shut. _ Oh, God! _Just a moment longer and she’d never let him leave. 

“Night, Scully.” His voice felt like honey coating her skin. Her hands slid slowly down his jacket and fell bonelessly at her sides as he stepped back. 

Still floating from the taste of him, she watched him swagger away with a lopsided grin. He said nothing, but the knowing look of inevitability they shared was deafening. The path of their seemingly platonic partnership had been leading to this particular fork in the road for years now. It was just a matter of time before they would face it head-on. Soon it would be the right time to settle their own unsolved truths still shrouded in darkness side by side. 

Just the thought of physically solidifying the love she knew they both shared for one another made her heart jackhammer in anticipation.

Scully slumped dreamily against the wall and allowed herself a moment of blissful satisfaction. As butterflies stirred, she whispered the epitome of their relationship through her fingertips, “...a madness shared by two.”

——

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry if this was overly romantic. I really tried not to add too much of it and bog down the fun part of the story, but I couldn’t help myself with it being s7. If anyone is a fan of the show TVD or Originals, then hopefully you liked my little nod to that. Also, the name “Lux” is my fave name in the nineties movie The Virgin Suicides, in case anyone else noticed. 
> 
> The song shout outs made were to Madonna’s “Music,” which was popular in the year 2000, and of course to Cher. 
> 
> I have to give a huge virtual hug to my beta’s Jeri, Annie, Laia, and Valerie for catching all my mistakes!
> 
> Thanks so much for reading. Your feedback gives me life and that’s not an exaggeration🥰


End file.
